


17th Birthday

by thewednesdaytales



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bad Parent John Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Gen, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, John House's A+ Parenting, John Winchester's Journal, One Shot, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28993578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewednesdaytales/pseuds/thewednesdaytales
Summary: Inspired by an excerpt from John Winchester's Journals.Dean celebrates his 17th birthday with his first solo case, and comes to a heartbreaking realization.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	17th Birthday

When he wakes up on his seventeenth birthday, Dean doesn’t expect much. He can’t even remember the last time he celebrated a birthday. Sammy will usually give him a (terribly) hand-drawn card and whatever little gift he’s managed to scrounge up on the road, but John lets the day pass just like any other. Dean doesn’t even want much, a simple happy birthday and a candle to blow out would be more than enough… but he knows better than to ask for even that.

It’s been almost a year since John dragged him out of the boy’s home and back on the road. He’s been looking at Dean differently ever since, a subtle change that Dean can’t quite put his finger on, but can feel palpably nevertheless. He wants to know what he did, but he’s even more afraid to find out. For now he keeps his head down and does as he’s asked, like always.

Dean sighs and rolls out of bed, gets dressed. He throws together what could pass as breakfast for him and Sammy, and when they’re finished John walks in and hands Dean a rifle. Dean silently follows him out into the forest, where they waste away the morning shooting at trees and tin cans.

Sam sits on a stump reading the whole time.

When they get back to the room, Dean has barely sat down at the table to clean the guns when a stack of papers lands in front of him with a plop. He looks up to see John looming over the table, a hard glint in his eyes. Dean eyes the papers warily.

John clears his throat, “There’s a couple of ghosts terrorizing the convent just outside of town. Two nuns haunting the place”.  
Dean glances up at John. “Should I pack a bag, so we can head out right away?”

John shakes his head, slaps a gruff hand down on Dean’s shoulder.

“I’m going to stay behind with Sammy. It’s time you took on a hunt by yourself. It’s a simple salt and burn, so even you can’t fuck that up.”

The hand on his shoulder squeezes hard enough to bruise and Dean bites his tongue and nods, shame burning at the back of his throat. John gives him keys to the Impala then heads over to Sammy without another word.

Dean tucks the papers into a duffel alongside the salt, matches, and shotgun casings then heads out.

****

When Dean gets to St. Stephen’s, he pulls over on the other side of the road and pulls out the papers to read. The stack contains a section from the town’s newspaper and some photocopied files from the church mentioned.

Dean settles back to start reading, and is barely a couple sentences in when his stomach drops.

_Two nuns._

Two nuns who were in love with each other and were found out by the townspeople.

They killed themselves shortly after, bled out beside one another in the convent’s cemetery, curled together beneath the statue of St. Stephen.

Dean has to close his eyes and swallow against the bile that rises in his throat.

_He knows. He knows. He knows. He knows._

Dean draws in a few shaky breaths and slowly opens his eyes. He finally knows what changed, finally understands why John has been looking at him differently. John knows.

Dean cycles through his memories, tries to pinpoint how John could have figured it out. Dean’s been so careful… _so careful_. He never looks too long, he never flirts, and he certainly has never brought a boy back to the motel. And yet John still knows.

Maybe he can tell just by looking at Dean.

He spends a few more moments in the car tamping down the rising panic before he gets out and starts investigating.

***

Night has fallen and Dean has spent the better part of two hours locating the graves of the two nuns- Helen and Adelaide. They were hidden in the forest behind the cemetery, marked by two simple crosses. They weren’t even given the decency of being buried in the cemetery, let alone a headstone.

He spends another couple of hours digging up the two graves. Two graves is so much harder then one, and tiring when you’re the only one digging.

He understands what this hunt is now. He understands why it’s his first one alone.

It’s punishment.

John sent him out here as punishment for _what he has done_ , for _who he is_.

Dean wonders how many hunts, how many punishments he will have to endure until he is normal, until he is clean.

By the time he has uncovered both sets of bones, the moon is high in the sky and lights the graves in an eerie bluish color. The nuns are dressed in plain clothes, their habits no where to be seen. Dean bites his cheek until it bleeds. Of course they aren’t in their habits. They defied God. They defied the natural order. They were sinners…abominations.

And now John knows. He knows Dean is just like them. That he is tainted, wrong, unnatural.

Dean goes to pour the salt into the two graves, but stops.

With tears slipping down his cheeks, he carefully moves one set of bones into the other grave. Places them side by side until they are resting together.

Maybe they couldn’t be together when they were alive, but at least now they will be together forever. They deserve that much.

He pours the salt and lights the match. Drops it in with a shaking hand.

He watches as the flames burn steadily. He contemplates stepping into the flames for just a second, a minute. No one else would have to know if he died. His secret would be safe. And he would be clean, right? The fire would purify him, purge him of sins and cleanse his soul of its stains.

But the thought passes, and he thinks of Sammy. He can’t leave him alone. Sammy deserves a good father and while John damn well will never be one, Dean can try.

Dean watches until the flames burn out, tears silently streaming down his face.

On the drive back he has to pull over on the side of the road to throw up. He retches until there’s nothing left in his stomach and the bile burns his throat. When he’s done, his chest is heaving, but he still feels sick. His throat burns and his heart hurts when he thinks of Helen and Adelaide. He wonders if he’ll meet the same fate.

He spends a few minutes kneeling in the dirt panting, then pushes himself to his feet, wipes his mouth clean, and gets back in the car.

When he returns to the motel room, he can’t meet John’s eyes. Dean knows the look that will be written plainly across John’s face, knows now what it means and why it’s there.

He tells John “It’s done” and goes to bed.

***

The next time John sends him on a solo hunt won’t be for years after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr @ the-wednesday-tales


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